


Bear Witness to Their Ardor

by kloperslegend



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 15:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kloperslegend/pseuds/kloperslegend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Futurefic. Really no plot here, just sex and adorable fluff. Not even sure how that happened. NSFW. Myka returns home after a week-long assignment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bear Witness to Their Ardor

The logs Helena placed on the fire had long since been reduced to simmering coals, casting hesitant shadows across the library. When Helena had decided she wanted to begin writing science fiction novels of her own rather than just doing the research, it had come to their attention that she had nowhere in the house to do just that. And so, one weekend, Myka had taken the liberty of purchasing a vintage mahogany desk (to match their bookcases, of course) and moving it in a small neglected corner of their at-home library.

Searching through the stacks of literature concerning behavioral neuroscience, Helena twitched a smile. She remembered the day well: how shy her wife had been presenting her with the gift, and how delighted Myka was when Helena nearly burst into tears. Not only had Myka purchased a desk: she had dug through the entire H.G. Wells section to retrieve any and all desk-related utensils. It had been perfect.

Downstairs, shedding her jacket, Myka moved into the kitchen. She had just come back from a long-term artifact-retrieval, and was jonesing terribly for a half-decent vintage. Helena, of course, with her refined tastes and deep pockets, only kept the best of wines in the house. So it was simple to merely grab the bottle breathing on the kitchen island, pour two glasses, and head upstairs. Myka was confident Helena's choice of wine wouldn't disappoint. Helena, undoubtedly, was at her desk scribbling away at what Myka was beginning to refer to as Helena's "second wife." Considering the time the woman spent with the manuscript, it was a nickname meant only half-heartedly.

The agent climbed the stairs to the second floor, pausing her jaunt to their library only to peek quickly in the bedrooms of their two children, Jamison and Grace. After planting a quick peck on their foreheads and assuring herself they were sleeping soundly, she continued on.

Sure enough, her wife was quietly muttering to herself as she amassed a small hoard of books in her arms. Myka was thankful she had found Helena here, at the relative entrance to their extensive collection. After their house had been built, they had both quickly set to properly populating the library's shelves with books. Helena had insisted on buying and stocking the latest journals of various sciences, insisting she catch up on the details of every science as soon as possible. It had been in vain when Myka pointed out it would be simply impossible to do in the small vacation they had taken to build (and move into) their house, but Helena would not be dissuaded. After all the issues of Science had finally been stacked on their shelves, the time traveler reluctantly admitted it would take longer than she expected. She had yet to admit total defeat.

Myka stood quietly, content to have a small moment in time where she could watch her amazing partner purely in her element. Of course, she could watch Helena sleep, but it just wasn't the same. Swirling her glass of wine, she let her gaze slide up and down Helena's body appreciatively as the woman stretched on her tiptoes, reaching for a journal just out of reach. She was wearing the black, silk-lined cotton trousers she had special ordered accompanied by the proper suspenders. These were, of course, adjunct to Helena's favorite wrinkled blue shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up her arm for convenience. Rivulets of black hair cascaded from a messy bun, the contrast of her complexion made ever clearer in the dying firelight. You could take the woman out of the Victorian era, it seemed, but you could never take the Victorian era out of the woman.

Myka sipped her red again, desire stirring as she drank in the sight of the engrossed woman. "Thank you for putting the kids to bed," she murmured, knowing full well that Helena was still oblivious to her presence.

Helena let out a small gasp, dropping the book in her right hand as she clutched her chest.

"Oh — Darling, you gave me quite the fright!"

"I can see that," Myka replied smoothly, eyes unmoving from Helena's lithe form. She felt desire flex within her like a well-toned muscle, uncurling from a week's worth of dormancy.

"Welcome home," the artificer smiled, setting stack of books she was holding in her left arm on a nearby coffee table. Helena swayed around the furniture and errant books, approaching her wife who promptly offered the second glass of wine. "I missed you." Helena whispered, taking the wine, before planting a gentle kiss of her wife's lips. "As did the children."

Myka gazed down at Helena, addition of heels with her natural height making her considerably taller than the raven-haired woman, whose feet were bare. They both were silent, and Helena had an inkling of what was coming next simply by the growing depth of Myka's eyes. That, and the dismissal of the mention of their children. "You know what I want to do, right now, Helena?" Myka questioned, and Helena knew for sure what was coming next. Her stomach clenched and her lips parted, looking up into forest green eyes, silent. Myka sipped her wine before leaning down to place her lips directly beside Helena's ear. "I want to throw you on that precious desk of yours, and fuck you until there are no doubts as to whom you belong."

Helena stilled, feeling the fluttering warmth in her stomach drop a good twelve inches and pool there. "Oh, Myka," she rasped, voice having dropped with her sudden arousal, "There's no doubt I belong to you."

Myka slid Helena's suspenders off her shoulders, replying simply, "Show me."

Helena could barely stifle a moan, once again glad for the sound-proofing they had put not only in their bedroom, but in the library and Myka's study. Helena felt nimble fingers unbuttoning the three final buttons on her shirt before it was wide open to her lover. Myka stepped back and gazed appreciatively at her wife's exposed torso. "I am going to go shut the door," she said, drilling Helena with her gaze, letting her know exactly who was in charge of the situation. "When I return, you will be at your desk." She turned her back to shut the door before pausing. "…With your cuffs."

Helena swallowed, fighting the eagerness building up in her chest, and other places. "Yes," she agreed windedly, before hurrying off to follow Myka's wishes exactly.

Myka took her time closing the door. It shut with a silent click, the finality of the familiar sound giving Myka Bering an unparalleled sense of satisfaction. She turned to face the dark room. When they had built the library, they had given it huge vaulted ceilings and arranged the shelves to create a labyrinth of sorts. The couple had agreed that because books were places to become lost in, the home that housed them should be, as well. With their considerable combined repertoire of interests, they had invested a large amount of space into the library, and there were many nooks and crannies filled with delightful curiosities. Her favorite thing about the library, however, was the giant glass wall at the very back, exposing readers to the very world they sought to enjoy through literature. The glass wall right behind Helena's desk.

They were both very grateful for Helena's sizeable financial resources.

Myka meandered through the shelves, giving Helena time to follow her instructions to a 'T.' She could feel the slow burn of excitement shiver through her like a tiny electric current. Dear god. No matter how many years they spent together, the passion they experienced never seemed to wear off or slow down.

As she turned the final corner, she paused to watch her wife tidy some final papers away into the appropriate drawers before looking up and giving Myka that look.

Agent Bering's breath caught, as it always did, when Helena gave her the look.

The look that held such a naïve anxiety, a suppressed eagerness, a smoldering anticipation, while simultaneously saying, lover, I want you; I can't wait any longer for your touch; the entire expression betraying the sinful hopes blossoming within her genius mind. Helena licked her parted lips; flushed neck and dilated eyes confirming what the agent had already discerned.

Myka swallowed hard. It was her favorite look, that look, and Helena knew it. She had no doubts Helena was just as wet as she was, and they hadn't even touched beyond a chaste kiss. She watched her wife glance quickly to the leather handcuffs sitting innocently on the desktop before glancing back to Myka's face.

Myka finished her wine, tossing the empty glass onto the carpet. "Lay down," she whispered, because if she had said it louder her voice would have broken. Helena backed up to the desk, but chose not to lie down, instead watching the taller woman stalk closer and closer. When Myka reached the other woman, she pressed her body flush to Helena's. "I said," Myka intoned, each word staccato. She lifted Helena by the ass, planting her square in the middle of the aged mahogany. "Lay. Down."

Helena lay back, her bun growing less formed and more messy with each movement. Her blue shirt fell open on the desk, exposing taut breasts and attentive nipples to the chilly air. Satisfied, Myka grabbed the leather cuffs. As she moved around the other side of the desk, nearer to Helena's head, she traced a light finger from her lover's ribs to her clavicle, and finally resting at the pulse point on her neck. Helena let out a small sigh, closing her eyes. Myka leaned over, placing each hand on either side of the Victorian's head.

"Do you know what I'm going to do now, Helena?" she asked, pleased she had kept the excitement from her voice.

Helena's eyes snapped open, looking into Myka's without expression. Two could play the game of control; two could hold back the tension that was building. It was better that way, anyway. "You," Helena enunciated, tasting every word as it rolled off the burr of her tongue, "are going to cuff me to the desk." She sat up suddenly, just enough to place her lips barely centimeters from Myka's. She whispered the next few sentences, letting her lover hear exactly how breathless she was. "And then you are going to fuck me. And, darling, I am going to scream for you."

Myka smirked then, and stood. Helena rested her head back on the desk, her face mirroring Myka's. She then offered her wrists to her captor, slowly moving each finger through the air while she waited. The younger agent fastened the cuffs to Helena's wrists, and Helena checked them quickly, reassuring herself they were fashioned correctly. A series of localized magnets bolted down the latches if the two cuffs were in close proximity; once the cuffs were on, they were on – until Myka decided otherwise.

It had been Helena's idea, originally. Until the Victorian, Myka's sex life had been relatively vanilla. Over their years together they had learned the art of each other, and the brunette had discovered exactly how much of a thrill she got by playing the top in bed. After Helena's wrists were rubbed raw from Myka's metal handcuffs during a particularly vigorous bedroom power struggle, it had been determined they needed a good pair of leather ones. But rather than order online, Myka had ordered Helena fashion her own. They had both taken a perverse satisfaction in the knowledge that the artificer had literally created the chains that bound her to the desk, or table, or chair, or bed, or whatever hard surface the two happened to favor that day.

Myka reached under the lip of the desk, fingers gliding over the smooth wood in search of Helena's special modification. Ah – there it was. Carved into the wood was a special 'hook' just the right size to fasten the chain of the cuffs to. Feeling her smirk creep back, Myka quickly grabbed the chain and attached it to the desk. "There," she said, settling into the desk chair to gaze at the offering before her. She picked up Helena's unfinished glass of red and tasted, feasting on how positively ready her wife looked before her. It wasn't long before she fell to temptation, though – she set the wine toward the top of the desk not far from Helena's head. In a deliberate motion, she placed her hands on Helena's waist, pressing the smaller woman to the desk as she began to kiss slowly up her body.

Helena shifted as Myka moved over the sensitive spot on her lower ribs and under her breasts. She issued a derelict sound of distress as Myka completely ignored her nipples, which were, by now, pebbled and hard enough to cut diamonds. Helena arched off the desk, or tried to, as lover's hips ground into hers just as their lips met. Myka nibbled at Helena's bottom lip softly as her hands took up the job her mouth had abandoned, trailing over all the woman's sensitive spots before stopping to flick at the peaks of her breasts. Helena moaned into the contact, and Myka moaned back, carefully constructed wall of control beginning to show its first chinks.

They kissed softly a while longer, the younger agent deftly fingering Helena's breasts, before she began the descent again. It was swifter this time, tainted with a desperate impatience only an unwilled separation can inspire. When Myka reached Helena's trousers, still snug on her hips, she stopped, nibbling at the fabric directly above Helena's hip bone. Her lover subtly bucked once, breathing hard into the library atmosphere.

"I know," Myka husked, before unbuttoning each of Helena's trouser buttons with her mouth. The cold metal made her shiver.

As soon as the buttons were undone, she tore the offending garment away, shuffling the cotton and silk pants down Helena's legs faster than she could ever remember doing before. In her haste, she remembered herself, and paused, closing her eyes. When she was certain she could continue without positively ravishing her wife without a second to waste, Myka opened her eyes again.

Under her trousers, Helena had worn lace stockings, complete with garters and matching panties. The brunette could barely breathe, taking in the stunning vision that was her wife. Seeing the look in her partner's eyes, Helena breathed out, "I had a hunch you would be back today…" It took a second for Myka to register what she had heard, and when it hit her she trembled. Upon more consideration, she realized Helena's retrieval of the cuffs had been a bit too fast. Helena had prepared, had hoped for Myka to come home and do this. The sentiment only made her more determined.

The brunette knelt back down, flicking her tongue out along the edge the panties, teasing ever so cruelly. She could smell Helena's arousal from the moment her trousers had been removed, but down here, so close to the sweet source, it was nearly intoxicating. Myka quickly unclipped the little garter suspenders and rolled Helena's panties from her hips, leaving her with only her button up shirt – which had since slowly climbed upward, now bunched under the woman's next and shoulders – and the stockings with their garters.

She was so wet, she practically shined in the moonlight. "Do you see what you do to me?" Helena had intended the sentence to come out as a muse, but instead it was very nearly a gasp.

Myka saw.

And then she tasted, first running the flat of her tongue from bottom to top. She gripped Helena, hands fitting perfectly in the curvature where hips met waist. The artificer's thighs rose, and the chain of the cuffs became taught, their captive wishing desperately that she could bury her hands in her lover's hair, or, at the very least, rake her nails down her back.

"Myka," she gasped, and the mentioned party hummed in response, buried in more important things. She had established a rhythm, and it seemed to be working for both of them; tongue darting in and out of Helena's entrance before doing a jig on her clit, nibbling the labia all the way back down to start completely over again, sucking and thrusting and pouring years of affection and commitment into the act. Myka nearly died hearing the noises her partner was making above her. Helena nearly died from, well, other things.

The desk shook with Helena's struggle, hands stretching against the handcuffs despite the futility of it all. Myka looked up, gazing at Helena's thrown back head before watching the wine ripple in time with Helena's bucking hips.

Sensing Helena about to spend (the warm gush gave her away), Myka pulled back suddenly. Helena cried out, and Myka smiled, leaning over the woman to kiss her passionately. And oh, was this kiss different from their first. Myka grabbed the back of Helena's hair, yanking her head back so she could bite her neck before guiding their lips together again. It was fast, and rough, and they ground their lips together the same way they ground onto each other's thighs.

"Shall we use the accessory tonight, my love?" Myka had reached down to lazily finger Helena in the interim. "If so, I'll have to make a quick trip to our bedroom."

"Second — drawer down, left side – ah!" Helena huffed in exasperation when Myka stopped, eyebrow raised. The brunette pulled open the drawer in question, and sure enough, there their favorite strap-on lay.

"Oh, my…" Myka picked it up, checking for dust before donning it over her slacks. "… You naughty girl…" she teased, giving Helena's cunt a quick peck while making the final adjustments to the harness.

"You know me, love. I like to – " The strap-on sliding up and down her slit interrupted her witty comment. "—be prepared," she gasped out, struggling against her restraints. Myka teased, tweaking Helena's nipples while barely offering her any penetration. "Oh, please," Helena whispered, resisting the urge to moan the words.

"Hm?" Myka Bering thrust back and forth lightly, leaving Helena offering up her hips for more.

"I said, fuck me, Agent Bering, you wanted to show me to whom I belong, bloody well show me!"

With that, the woman standing flawlessly slid the toy inside Helena, right up to the base. They stayed that way for a moment, Myka reveling in Helena's response. Helena remained surprisingly silent, the only sounds leaving her mouth barely discernible to Myka's ears. They stared into each other's eyes for handful of seconds, passion making those seconds seem as minutes in the way only passion could do.

"Mine, Helena," Myka possessively growled, closing her eyes as she began thrusting in and out of her wife slowly, pleased the stars would bear witness to their ardor. "Mine."

Helena watched Myka revel in the act, heavens framing her lover's face, the face of her universe, the woman who had saved her from the great darkness that had once threatened to swallow her whole. Turned her from a woman dying to destroy the world, to a woman who would die to prevent its destruction. "Yes. Yes." Her agreement was hushed, emphasized by her arched back and intermittent mewling. She wrapped her legs around Myka, using toned muscle to accentuate each thrust. "Yes—"

Myka let out a sigh of pleasure as she grabbed Helena, pulling the smaller woman downward and onto the toy with considerably more force. Raven-hair splashed against the desk as the library was suddenly filled with a guttural moan. Myka watched her wife announce her pleasure to the atmosphere, shackled hands gripping the slack chain and she writhed, bucking and sweating and gasping. "God, yes, Helena," she growled, the sight beneath her simply becoming too much. "I love you, I love this – "

"—yes, darling –"

"—love this…!"

Helena moaned at Myka's admission, husking, "Harder," between attempts to breathe under the growing weight of the pleasure between them. Myka grunted, ceding to her wife's wishes, and Helena nearly bawled her lover's name. She strained against the handcuffs, thrashing.

"Please, God, darling – need to touch you, the cuffs –" Without stopping, Myka leaned her long body over Helena, undoing the chain from its restrictive hook. Helena's hands flew to her lover's hair, carefully placing the chain behind Myka's neck before forcing her toward a breast. From this angle Myka couldn't achieve as much force behind each thrust, but Helena didn't care. Myka's tugging at her breasts more than made up for the lost sensation.

The younger woman hummed around a nipple with every gasped 'oh,' and 'yes,' reaching her ears. As much as she enjoyed being made love to, making Helena lose control was her favorite experience in life. Myka felt nails rake down her back, and she loosed a nipple with an issued gasp; the sensation was strong even through the fabric of her shirt. Pleased she had surprised her lover, Helena held on to the shirt with one hand, yanking in time with their movement.

Feeling Myka slow, the vigorous rhythm beginning to take its toll, Helena touched Myka's shoulder lightly. "Myka," she growled, and the brunette looked up. "Let me on top."

Myka, gyrating slowly, gently lifted Helena without parting their hips. Supporting her easily, Myka stood. She switched their places and soon Myka was resting her ass against the desk as Helena was planted on her lap. They kissed, Helena mewling lightly at Myka's soft movements. Taking her hands from behind Myka's head, she pushed her lightly until the brunette was the one resting on the desk. "Release me," Helena husked, and Myka complied, removing their special cuffs with experienced ease. Throwing them to the floor, Helena planted a hand on either side of Myka's head, kissing her deeply, tongues intertwining with years of familiarity.

Helena slowly lifted herself up off of Myka, before just as slowly descending again. Myka closed her eyes, listening to the shuddering exhalation every time Helena slid up and down the strap-on.

"No." Myka opened her eyes to see a determined Helena looking her straight in the face. "I want you to watch what you do to me." Myka didn't need to see what she was doing to Helena, she could feel it against her slacks as gravity did its work, all of Helena's moisture seeping around the base of the harness.

"Dear god," Helena muttered, face contorting and eyes closing as she continued to pleasure herself above Myka. She reached down as if making for her clit, but stopped when Myka grabbed her wrist, bringing it instead to her still-clothed breast. "Helena," she said, and Helena ripped Myka's shirt open, sending buttons flying to the library floor.

"Myka," Helena purred, slipping her hands under Myka's bra and groaning when she felt hard nipples there.

"Too many clothes, darling," the artificer growled, grinding her hips into Myka's. The younger agent gasped; surprised she could feel the harness dig into her clit through her trousers and thong. "Need to touch you…" Helena reached behind Myka, encouraging her to arch her back, and single-handedly undid her bra.

There was an awkward graceless moment where Myka and Helena struggled to remove her bra and undershirt, but it passed quickly, and soon Helena's hot mouth encompassed her nipple. Looking down, she realized with credulity that Helena's bun was still barely hanging on. As Helena ground down on her clit again, Myka tangled her fingers in the ink-dipped hair, removing any and all remaining bobby pins. Helena sat up, eyes closed, biting her bottom lip as she ground into Myka over and over again.

"As I am yours, darling," Helena said, emphasizing her words by slithering a hand down the front of Myka's slacks hand resting it in the tight space between her body and the harness, "You are mine." The younger agent gasped when Helena fingered her clit, and when she closed her eyes it felt like it was actually herself inside her wife. She gasped her pleasure, echoing Helena's earlier cries. As she raised her hips to meet Helena's hand, she pushed the toy deeper, causing Helena to grind harder and causing a circular effect.

Myka grabbed Helena and pulled her closer to kiss her, knowing their climax was both close and inevitable. The slapping of their bodies grew more and more muffled until they were locked in a vicious rocking, backs arched against each other, fine sheen of sweat glistening in tune with the midnight sky.

When they came, it was together.

Helena, collapsed on top of Myka, was breathing heavily as she gently kissed the curve of her lover's jaw. She pulled her arms near to her chest, slipping them under Myka and around her back. Myka smiled. She slowly scratched Helena's head, allowing her happiness to manifest itself in a low, consistent hum. "I missed you," she murmured.

"Really?" Helena mused, words slurring just slightly. "I couldn't tell." Myka cracked open a single eye, doing her best to give Helena a reprimanding glare under the circumstances, and failed. She felt Helena's chuckle more than she heard it, and cracked a smile, head lolling to the other side.

Helena lifted herself up suddenly, unhinging their connection at the hips. She stood, swaying slightly while waiting for her balance. Looking at her wife's crotch suddenly, she chuckled. "Darling, how on Earth did your trousers manage to stay on the entire time?"

Myka stretched and sat up, slipping the strap-on off and setting it on an empty space of desk beside her. "They just did," she replied, tugging the messy things off. With a grin, she added, "Though they didn't seem to pose much of a problem for you."

Helena chuckled and slid back onto Myka's lap, planting a sweet kiss on her lips before pressing their foreheads together. "Let's go to bed, love." Myka cupped Helena's face gently and nodded in agreement. "Carry me?" Helena added.

Myka scoffed, "What do you take me for?" But exhausted as she was, she acquiesced anyway, gently lifting her wife and heading to their bedroom for a good night's worth of sleep.


End file.
